


Prove them Wrong.

by Jelfia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1333903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelfia/pseuds/Jelfia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton is seriously injured in an explosion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prove them Wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> This story deals with the stage of grief, there may be triggers for some people, see the bottom for a better warning.

Clint Barton lay in bed, there was a constant hiss in his ears, his feet were itching like crazy. He closed his eyes and tried not to sigh, he knew Tasha was in the room work on something on her tablet and he did not want her to come over. He wanted to sulk in private.

The hearing loss would not be that bad, Tony was well on the way to a better cochlear implant for him. He could still fire his bow missing his pinky and ring finger on his left hand.

No it was not the hearing or the loss missing fingers, it was the below knee amputation of his right leg, and above knee amputation of left leg. Clint knew no matter what Tony builds for him he was never going to be able to be an Avenger again. Clint felt tears slide down his face in guilt, knowing he was going to leave his team with out there spotter. He finally fell asleep.

  


“Go to hell, sir.” Clint snarled at Coulson. Clint sat on the edge of the bed, struggled to get the temporary prosthesis on over his lower leg.  

“Do you want me to get your pants for you?” Coulson offered.

“Fuck you.” Clint replied finally getting the prosthesis in place. He reached behind him on the bed and grabbed his other prosthesis and started to get it on. Coulson tight lip turned and left the room. He passed Natasha as she headed toward Clint’s room a bag of fast food in her hand.

“How is he?” she asked. Coulson closed his eyes as cursing drifted out of Clint’s room. Natasha laughed, patting Coulson on the shoulder, “Give him some time, sir.”  Natasha straightened her shoulder and head right in to the dragons den. Coulson leaned against the wall; his eyes closed listening to the two.

“Are you done?  We are going to eat at those tables outside.” Natasha voice floated out to Coulson.

“Idzi da djabla.” Clint snarled again.

“Really Barton? Go to hell, that’s your best curse. I am ashamed to know you; I know I have taught you better than that.” Natasha sounded outrage.  Coulson smiled slightly at Natasha acid tone, only the years of working with her allowed him to pick up the worry and love under the acid.

“Put on your pants I don’t want to see your underwear anymore then I have to.”  Natasha barked. Coulson straighten up and head out knowing that Natasha has him well in hand. Even Barton’s current anger would not faze her. He did however, made a mental note to get a bottle of the good Russian vodka for her anyway.

  


Clint sat in his couch the prosthesis thrown in a heap in the corner. The gun sitting in his lap, the tv flicker gently in the dark. Clint was tired, so tired of fighting. It would take just a split second, and then he would never have to be a burden again.  The flicking on tv finally caught Clint’s eye, there was men in some kind of sit down ski contraption, most people in the ski thing where missing one or both legs. Then the skiers came in to a shooting range flipped themselves down and was handed a gun.  Clint listened to the announcers.

“Now they’re shooting at a target that is 20 mm, that about the size of a nickel.  Oh… the American missed, you can tell he is rattled.” the announcer said.

“Fuck that, rattle my ass, he just need to stop thinking. Really you missed again! Stop over thinking the shot. This is the best American can do?” Clint yield in outrage at the TV, the gun forgotten in his lap, as he watched the Paralympics. “Damn I could do better than that!”

  
  


The Avengers sat in the living room of the tower, even the robots had been hauled up. The room had been decorated in enough red white and blue to make even Captain America queasy. The back wall had a several banner on it, one said ‘Go for the Gold’, ‘America’, and ‘Go Clint!’ Dum-e, had a ball cap on with a little American flag pincher, where Butterfinger and You had red, white, and blue pompoms in their pinchers. There was food and drinks spread over the room.

“We caught up with the American, Clint Barton. We interviewed him before the race.” the picture flips to Clint being interviewed

“You lost both legs, two fingers, and twenty percent of your hearing when the building had a gas explosion. You were trapped for 4 days. Do you ever regret visiting the grocery store that day?”  the interviewer leaned down the mike to where Clint sat in his sit-ski, his goggles pushed up on his short hair.

“No I don’t. You can’t go through life regretting your choices. I got lucky, I was trapped but I had food with me and that, although my wounds went septic, they got to me before it killed me. Also I have eighty percent loss of hearing but Stark designed a new implant that helped.” Clint smiled and shrugged in the interview,

“You and Mr. Stark seem to be close friends, is it true that your injury is his fault? Have you met the other avengers?” The interviewer asked.

Clint frowned, “I worked as a security consultant for Stark, and occasionally as a bodyguard for Ms. Potts. I do not blame him for what happen, it was my own fault for letting him talk me into going grocery shopping instead doing my paperwork. They tell me that as soon as he realized what happen, he _assembled_ the avengers to help rescue those trapped, they saved lives, not just mine.” Clint smiled again then shrugged, “I’ve meet the Advantages, they call me there mascot.” He laughed at this.

“Now this is not your first Olympics, you also compete in the Summer Olympics and Paralympics in Archery. You won gold in single competition and bronze in team. You have 3 medals, how did you think you did? Are you worried there might be too much pressure on you for this winter Olympics?”

Clint ducked his head and blushed. “I found the Summer Olympics stressful at first, I was the only one with disabilities, but I grew up using a recurve bow, so I actually find the compound bow used in competition easier, and after a day or so of practice to get the jitters  out, I found it very relaxing. As for these competitions, it isn’t as much pressure as I put on myself trying to learn to walk again.” He shrugged.

“Is there anyone back home you want to say hi to? And any words of wisdom for others?” The interviewer smiled at Clint.

“Yeah my sister Tasha,” back in the tower there was some ribbing, and Natasha flipped them all off. “And my best friend Phil, they both stuck with me though the whole ordeal, and I appreciate it all. Finally the rest of my friends who put up with me at my worse, I know they are watching me and I hope to make them proud and bring home a Medal. Don’t forget Stark you promised donation to The US Olympic Training Ground.” Clint waved at the camera.

“I will build a whole new training ground if you win!” Stark shouted at the TV as the rest of the team cheered and the robots waived there flags and pompoms.

“As for words for wisdom, I don’t know.” Clint shrugged, “Prove them wrong?” Clint laughed and skied off.

The tower cheered as Clint started the race, so loud they could not hear the announcers talk. Clint shots never missed, his acrobatic training allows him to flip his sit-ski upright smoothly, and came across the finish line, his arms pumping up and down in victory.

He won Gold, by .04 seconds.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Clint hit a low point and complicated suicide, he does not, and there is a happy ending.


End file.
